


The Bucket List

by boom_slap



Series: There's something wretched about this [2]
Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Corpses, Drabble, M/M, Prompt Fill, Romance, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24304333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boom_slap/pseuds/boom_slap
Summary: Pentecost - Pantheon, Rome, said the cursed piece of paper and Martín frowned at it. Why the fuck would Andrés place the weird rose petal tradition as last?The tags say Romantic Fluff but keep in mind that it's me, hence the tag that follows.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa & Palermo | Martín Berrote, Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Series: There's something wretched about this [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1754590
Comments: 32
Kudos: 116





	The Bucket List

**Author's Note:**

> I got a wonderful prompt on tumblr saying I should check out the Pentecost in Rome and oh well, I decided to slap it all the way into the "There's something wretched about this" verse because who's here to stop me

_So that when I die as well, I can tell you all about it._

Fuck that declaration. Fuck Andrés de Fonollosa, may he rest in peace. Finally, most of all, fuck his dumb bucket list.

  
  


It started out simple enough.

“Martín, that’s disgusting,” said Andrés as Martín bit into a Gran Crispy McBacon with a groan of pleasure. He’s brought it all the way from Florence just to have it for dinner.

“Ar’ thu kiddin’?” he frowned, shoving fries into his mouth. He swallowed and licked his lips. “This shit is _amazing_ , you’re just being pretentious.”

“I would never touch that,” he scoffed and Martín gasped in offense.

“You mean you’ve never even _tried it_? You can’t die not knowing what a McDonald’s tastes like!”

“ _Touché_ , _cariño,“_ he smirked, but Martín waved him off impatiently.

“Pull out your camouflage, because we are going. Tomorrow.”

  
  


So they did. At their first try, Andrés could barely swallow a bite, disgusted to no end. Luckily, Martín was a smart man; he took him to a bar, got him drunk and came back to the fast food restaurant at 3 am. As expected, Andrés did _not_ whine that time around, devouring a McAngus Supreme at an impressive speed.

The next day, he declared: “I need to make a _bucket_ _list_ , Martín!”.

The idea was actually cute and the things on the list were very pleasurable: oriental massages, new forms of art, a drive-in movie theater, tarot cards, short voyages, grave robbery, scuba diving. You know, the fun, couple stuff.

  
  


Carrying on with the bucket list made it somehow easier to deal with grief when Andrés had passed away.

_I’ll tell you all about it._

  
  


It’s been four years now, Martín was forty-five and with every task on the list, he cursed himself for being a hopeless romantic and he cursed Andrés for being an evil, insufferable _asshole_.

_Fuck that_ , he thought as he stared down on the ground two thousand meters below him.

“Ready?” asked the parachute diving instructor who was standing behind Martín’s back. They were strapped to each other and the man was handsome; Martín would consider flirting with him for fun if he wasn’t so _terrified._

He nodded.

He was damn sure that Andrés had done this on purpose, saving the wildest, dumbest ideas for last, knowing full well he would be dead at that point, knowing full well that Martín would be dumb enough to go through with them.

Once safely on the ground, with his legs shaking and - yes, okay, a wild grin spreading across his face, he pulled out the list to check the _parachute diving_ box.

There was only one thing left.

_Pentecost - Pantheon, Rome_ , said the cursed piece of paper and Martín frowned at it. Why the fuck would Andrés place the weird rose petal tradition as last? Was there something more to it? Surely, because it seemed weird.

  
  


Martín had to wait for Easter to come and go and he occupied himself with being disgustingly rich, traveling and paying a short visit to Sergio to annoy the man out of his mind.

Before going to Rome, he had visited Andrés as well. The monks hurriedly cleared the catacombs of all the tourists at the arrival of their benefactor. They let him stay alone in the chamber where Andrés’ body was.

Martín tapped on the glass coffin with his fingers, being obviously sacrilegious and not caring a single bit.

“What have you come up with now, huh, _Blancanieves_?” he murmured, raising an eyebrow at Andrés, who looked as if he was asleep, only the stillness of his chest revealing what he really was.

Martín knew he was being a crazy bastard by talking to, well, a corpse, but it felt natural for him. Easy. Right.

“You want me to have a religious experience or what? You know I only care for the, ah-... passion and ecstasy of any form. The rest, I don’t really give a fuck about.”

Met with morose silence, he sighed.

“ _Te quiero_ ,” he whispered. “ _Y te extraño mucho_.”

Rome was hot and crowded, and Martín glanced at his watch. He didn’t want to witness the whole service, content to stay outside of the Pantheon and listen to the latin chants. It was about time, though, so quietly, he slipped inside.

He leaned against one of the stone walls, not in the mood to meddle with the crazy amount of people waiting for the petals to start raining. He ignored them, letting his gaze wander over the ancient temple, a small smile stretching over his lips as he admired the dome, an architectural wonder. He let the harmony of the prayers lull him into contentment. The oculus at the top of the dome was a marvelous thing, open at all times, even during storms. Martín would gladly watch the rain pour into the temple.

Instead, as a murmur of excitement washes over the crowd, he watched as red rose petals began falling, only a few at first, then more and more, forming shapes like bird flocks in motion, playful in the rays of sunshine going in through the oculus. It was a wonderful spectacle, reminiscent of watching the dust floating lazily in the afternoon sun filtered through the curtains. The same feeling of enchantment, only times ten.

Upon falling, the petals created a delicate bedding on the stone floors.

It was beautiful, he realized, and beauty was the thing Andrés loved most in life.

He stared ahead and through the red, soft rain he could easily imagine Andrés on the other side of the rotunda, leaning against the wall just as he was, watching the spectacle with a small smile and a glimmer in his eyes. Martín knew that if he were there, he would turn his gaze to him at some point, looking to share the experience.

Now, Martín didn’t know shit about theology, but he knew what the Pentecost was about; the Holy Spirit descending upon the Apostles. It was about unity, and hope, and companionship. It was about a _promise_.

He couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle, bowing his head, his eyes getting awfully wet because Andrés may have been an asshole, but he could be a very romantic one.

  
  
  



End file.
